by Audrey Auden
The nun opened the door for them and bowed once more, ushering them across the threshold and closing the heavy doors behind them, shutting out even the soft sounds from outside.
Emmie followed Naoto’s lead and removed her shoes, then followed him into the heart of the temple. She paused unconsciously when she entered the great hall. A spicy smell of wood and incense pervaded the dimly-lit space. Dark, gleaming pillars of polished cedar rose to a beautiful wooden ceiling traversed by carved crossbeams. The pillars formed a central aisle leading to the main shrine.
The two of them walked in sock feet along the honey-colored wooden floor until they came to the shrine. A gleaming gold Buddha stood before a backdrop of violet, red, and green. Before the Buddha, three square paper lamps glowed softly.
“The lamplights of eternity,” Naoto whispered, bowing toward the shrine, “They’ve been burning for over twelve hundred years.”
Emmie glanced at him in surprise, about to ask him how anyone could know that for sure, when a reedy voice spoke from the shadows beside the shrine.
“Naoto-san.”
Emmie turned and saw a tiny old woman in orange robes approaching, her shaved head gleaming in the lamplight.
“Amaterasu Roshi,” said Naoto, bowing solemnly, “I am glad to see you fully recovered.”
The woman bowed in return, her eyes twinkling. She thought for a long moment before saying haltingly, “Perhaps my work here is not yet complete.”
She turned to Emmie, bowing and saying,
“And Emmie-san. How pleased I am to see you again.”
Emmie blinked at the unexpected phrasing and bowed awkwardly.
“Thank you. It’s, ah … so nice to meet you, too. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Yes, yes,” said Amaterasu. She switched to Japanese, continuing to speak to Emmie but glancing at Naoto, who said,
“The roshi apologizes but asks if you would mind having me translate. She feels her English — ah — slipping through her fingers as she gets older.”
“Oh, no, of course. I’m sorry I can’t speak even a little Japanese.”
Amaterasu chuckled, and Naoto translated as she said,
“We are so many little islands.”
Emmie wondered what might be the appropriate response to this, but Amaterasu saved her the trouble by saying, through Naoto,
“Come, let us talk together a while, before it is too late.”
“Too late for what?” Emmie asked, alarmed.
“You see I am not getting any younger,” said Amaterasu.
∞
Amaterasu led Emmie and Naoto into one of the galleries off the center aisle. The outer wall of the gallery was formed by a series of dark wooden doors, some of which were rolled back to reveal smaller shrines or rooms beyond. Amaterasu chose one such door, and Naoto rolled it back to reveal a small, unfurnished room with smooth wooden floorboards covered by a woven tatami mat. Morning light filtered through translucent paper screens covering tall windows.
Amaterasu sat down on the tatami mat and indicated that Naoto and Emmie should do the same. She smiled at Emmie, and Naoto translated as she said,
“Emmie-san, can you tell me about the first time you met Tomo Yoshimoto?”
Emmie nodded, remembering that Ayame’s interview with Amaterasu had started in a similar way. She wondered why this memory in particular might interest Amaterasu, but, seeing no reason to do otherwise, she let her mind return to that day.
“It was … almost two years ago, now. We met at an Indian restaurant in Berkeley. Saffron. You know, I didn’t even think about it at the time, but that’s my favorite restaurant. I have no idea how he found that out.
“Well, anyway, I was so nervous when I saw him come in, I nearly knocked over the dinner table,” she laughed, “It was awful. But Tomo was really nice about it. He made it seem really funny, and it sort of broke the ice. I practically forgot how embarrassed I was. Well, almost.
“I remember that the waiter had to come back like five times to take our order, because neither of us looked at the menu. There seemed to be so much to talk about. I had so many questions I wanted to ask him. Here was the man who had created Kaisei, the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. Maybe the most beautiful place I’ll ever see. I wanted to know everything, about where his ideas came from, the techniques he had used … It was amazing to talk with him about it all, even though I think I’d watched every single documentary about him and every interview he ever gave a million times before.
“He had a lot of questions about me, too, about how I’d grown up, and what made me want to become a designer. He was especially interested in my Eden domain. That was what made him want to meet me in the first place. I was really flattered by that. He asked me a lot of questions, about where the ideas for the content had come from, lots of little details. I remember thinking how I couldn’t wait to tell Owen that Tomo had loved all the environment physics he’d programmed …” Emmie swallowed, and her gaze drifted from Amaterasu.
“That was the day he asked me to join Augur. Both of us, actually, me and Owen. One of the best days of my life.”
Emmie turned her eyes back to meet Amaterasu’s, and she found the woman watching her closely, unblinking. Amaterasu nodded, leaning back on her heels as she said smoothly, her accent now gone,
“Yes. It was one of the best days of Tomo’s life, too.”
Emmie blinked, then gaped as Amaterasu’s face seemed to change, years melting away, transforming her into a woman in the prime of life. Shocked, Emmie turned to Naoto, who inclined his head toward Amaterasu, grinning as he said,
“You see I learned from the best.”
“What — What is this?” said Emmie, turning again to Amaterasu, “What’s going on?”
“We’ve set up a patrol of the perimeter,” Amaterasu said to Naoto, “Perhaps you can join the others for a while? We will need some time alone together.”
Naoto bowed deeply to Amaterasu and slipped out of the room.
“I know this must seem a bit confusing,” said Amaterasu, turning back to Emmie.
“Yeah. A bit,” said Emmie, annoyed.
Amaterasu chuckled.
“I wondered if Tomo might have made a mistake. But, no, you are so very like her.”
“What are you talking about? Like who?”
“Midori,” said Amaterasu, eyeing her appraisingly, “You have the same restlessness, the same impatience.”
Emmie frowned.
“Well, can you blame me for being impatient? There’s someone after me. Someone who killed two people I loved very much, who’s probably planning the same for me. I thought maybe you could help me. Now it looks like you’re just playing games with me.”
Amaterasu’s expression turned serious.
“I know it must seem that way. But I needed to be certain it was you.”
“What are you talking about?” said Emmie, struggling to keep a level tone, “Who else would I be?“
Amaterasu raised a hand, emanating an authority that quieted Emmie.
“Listen,” said Amaterasu, “There is much to tell you, and the —” she raised an eyebrow, “the so-called Stewards could arrive at any time.”
“You mean Amos’ people?”
“Yes. Amos Eckerd is one of them. I realized this too late, unfortunately. They, too, are learning the art of disguise.
“He came to visit me shortly after Tomo’s death. He said he was Tomo’s lawyer, and I believed him. Quite a charming man, I thought, actually. He seemed very interested in the temple here, and I showed him the grounds, the library, the temple of initiation. We had a long conversation about Buddhist philosophy. I should have been more on my guard. He must have been doing reconnaissance.
“He showed me Tomo’s will and said that Tomo had asked me to return to his estate a collection of documents he had left in my care. That was when I first became suspicious. The wording of the will seemed a bit vague, as if Tomo himself wasn’t sure what he had want
ed me to return. Tomo was such a precise man. It didn’t seem like him.
“I apologized to Amos and fell back on my cover, saying my memory had become so poor that I could not even remember what documents Tomo might have meant. But I invited Amos to look through the library for anything he thought might belong to Tomo’s estate.
“I think Amos turned the pages of every book and looked into every corner of the library. But in the end he found nothing. He didn’t know what he was looking for. So he left me his card and asked me to call if I remembered anything.
“The very day Amos left, I fell quite ill. He must have poisoned me. Clearly, I was not intended to survive. Of course, Amos did not realize who I was, just as I had not realized who he was.
“I had my suspicions about Tomo’s death even before Amos arrived. After Amos left, I was nearly certain. But there was nothing to be done about it then. I imagined Tomo had been robbed of Midori’s research and that I had the only remaining copy. All I could do was keep it safe and wait.
“And when Ayame came, I knew she had Tomo’s true instructions. Tomo was such a careful man. He had worked out every little detail of how the tablet was to be conveyed to you at the safe house, who should be present, how the tablet should be packaged — everything.
“He had reason to be cautious. In one of our last correspondences, he told me he had gathered new information that he wanted me to keep for him. He said he had encountered difficulties trying to back up the data, that copies would become corrupted, that he was unable to send the files to me electronically. He suspected that someone was trying to interfere with his research.
“He knew about the protections at the monastery here. He had prepared a tablet containing the data he wished to send me, and we arranged to use the Oakland temple as a drop site. I sent Naoto to retrieve the tablet, but Amos intercepted Tomo first.”
“Intercepted?” Emmie huffed, “Is that what you call being murdered?”
“I understand that Tomo’s death was upsetting to you,” Amaterasu said calmly, “But he understood the risk he was taking. He loved Midori, enough to risk his life to preserve the work that was so important to her. And he succeeded. He kept the documents safe for a very long time. Fifty years. Long enough to find you.”
“But why would he take such a risk?” Emmie cried, “What did he want me to do with this information?”
Amaterasu looked at her curiously, then peered around the room, as if searching for someone in a crowd. Emmie followed her gaze uneasily.
“But the Artifex must have come to you by now,” Amaterasu said at last, frowning. Emmie stared at her.
“Who?”
“The Artifex. Dom Artifex, isn’t it?”
“How do you know about him?”
“I have not known you long enough to be sure,” Amaterasu said carefully, “but I trust that Tomo did. He would have recognized the mark of the Artifex in you, just as I saw it in Midori. Otherwise he would not have left the tablet to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Amaterasu glanced around the room once more, this time reproachfully.
“I’m sorry. I see I’ve assumed too much. The Artifex has kept a great deal from you. Too much, I think. Is he here now?”
Emmie looked at her, puzzled.
“How could he be? There’s like zero wireless coverage here. I haven’t had a connection since we came onto the temple grounds.”
“Perhaps he is the one playing games with you,” Amaterasu said, shaking her head, “Ah, well. He must have had his reasons. But the time has come for you to understand.”
∞
Dom sat unseen beside Emmie on the tatami mat. He knew Amaterasu was right. He had been playing games with Emmie, misleading her about his true nature and concealing his purpose. The time had come for her to understand.
“Call him,” said Amaterasu, “He has much to answer to.”
“Call him? How? Like I said, there’s no connection —”
“Just call him. He must come to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Like this, perhaps. ‘Dom Artifex, show yourself!’” said Amaterasu, her voice resonating in the still air of the room.
Amaterasu turned to Emmie expectantly. Emmie glanced around the room, then echoed her uncertainly,
“Dom Artifex … show yourself.”
Dom had known that his ever more frequent intrusions into Emmie’s awareness had been awakening her to his presence, but this time, for the first time, she summoned him consciously. He felt the veil between them lifting. When Emmie saw him appear suddenly beside her, she gasped and scrambled away.
“How …?” She felt for the immerger headset that she had cast off in the car when her alternet connection cut out. She turned to the door, as if Dom might have slipped in silently while she was not looking. “No,” she whispered, “that’s not possible.”
“Do you see him, then?” asked Amaterasu.
Emmie cast a panicked look at her.
“You don’t?”
Amaterasu sighed and stood.
“Speak to her, Artifex,” she said brusquely, “You owe her this much.”
To Emmie, she said more kindly,
“I will wait for you in the temple. There is still much to discuss.”
Before Emmie could protest, Amaterasu slipped out through the doors, leaving her alone with Dom. They watched each other in silence for a long time, until Emmie burst out,
“Who are you? How are you doing this?”
Knowing no amount of preparation could make this explanation any easier, Dom began by saying,
“I am sorry, Emmie. It became so easy to blur the line between our worlds. I should have tried to explain this all sooner.
“The first time I came to you, the night I told you I would help you build Atlantis, you thought I was merely a projection. A hacker, unauthorized, but still just a projection. I thought that the familiar context would make it easier for you to accept me, less inclined to wonder whether I was a hallucination.”
“Are you a hallucination?” Emmie said uncertainly, mostly to herself.
“I do not know what the right word might be. No one else would find a trace of me in any server logs, on any recording device. No one else but you will ever see me.”
Emmie shook her head in disbelief. Dom went on,
“Afterwards, I showed you Dulai. I let you believe that it is just another domain, like your Eden, or Tomo’s Kaisei. But you will find no trace of Dulai anywhere on your alternet, just as you will find no trace of me anywhere in your server logs. Dulai is not an alternet domain.”
“So what is it?”
“A world like your own, except … elsewhere.”
Emmie rolled her eyes.
“So basically you want me to believe that you’re from a parallel universe.”
“Can it be a parallel universe if we can communicate with each other? I am not sure.”
“That’s crazy. You’re crazy. Or maybe just I’m crazy.”
“And Amaterasu as well?”
“If I’m the only person who can see you, how did Amaterasu know about you? How did she know how to … to call you, or whatever?”
“She has seen you do it before. A lifetime ago, when you were Midori.”
“When I was Midori,” Emmie said slowly.
“I know this will be difficult for you to accept,” said Dom, “You have always found it difficult. Even as Midori, growing up in a place where reincarnation was accepted almost as easily as gravity, even then you did not want to believe me at first.”
“You think I’m the reincarnation of some dead girl you knew?” said Emmie, aghast, “That’s — I don’t know, Dom. Totally morbid. Why would you even think that?”
“Emmie,” said Dom, his voice low and soft, “You and I knew each other long before, long before your time here on Earth.”
Emmie shivered, and Dom felt his awareness of her spreading across every inch of his skin. The hopeless desire to
make her remember surged through him, and he pulled tightly on their connection. His mind raced back across the ages to that day beside the fountainhead, and at the intersection of his world and hers, the memory of the great tree rose up, branches stretching toward the heavens, leaves unfurling, flowers blossoming and falling and giving way to swelling fruit. Dom watched the branching form reflected in Emmie’s green eyes as she stared, transfixed.
“Was it you?” she said wonderingly, “I thought I was alone, but you were there, weren’t you? The first time I saw this tree?”
“I was there, but that was not the first time we looked upon this tree together.”
He could feel her struggling to remember, clawing uselessly at the veil of forgetfulness protecting her from the memories of all the lives that had come before.
“You were called Ava then,” he said, “I remember the first time I saw you, up in the branches of a great olive tree in a sacred hilltop grove. You were spying on the children going to the Oracle,” he chuckled, “You were not old enough to go, but you were terribly impatient to learn what the Oracle had in store for you. I pretended that I had already gone to see the Oracle, and I teased you until you jumped out of the tree and threatened to tell the women that I was trespassing in the sacred grove. When I pointed out that you were, too, we made a truce.
“Afterwards, we became friends. We spent a year wandering the groves together in secret, getting into trouble with the women, going places we should not have gone, and always speculating about what the future would hold for us.
“And at last the day came when it was our turn to visit the Oracle. The Mohira who had come to speak with the Oracle’s voice came to the women’s colony in the great cedar forest by the sea, where all children in Dulai grow up. She gathered us up, all of the children who had come of age, and she led us to the sacred spring.
“One by one she called us to her, and the Oracle spoke. You were called to serve the Oracle as one of the Mohirai, and I was called to serve the Mohirai as one of the Artifikes. But something happened that day. You — You saw a vision of a distant land. A vision you could not forget.